Some Other Places Were Not So Good

It's All Nonsense. It's Only Nonsense. I'm Not Afraid Of The Rain. I Am Not Afraid Of The Rain. Oh, Oh, God, I Wish I Wasn't.

I Am Opposed To Writing About The Private Lives Of Living Authors And Psychoanalyzing Them While They Are Alive. Criticism Is Getting All Mixed Up With A Combination Of The Junior Fbi-men, Discards From Freud And Jung And A Sort Of Columnist Peep-hole And Missing Laundry List School. ... Every Young English Professor Sees Gold In Them Dirty Sheets Now. Imagine What They Can Do With The Soiled Sheets Of Four Legal Beds By The Same Writer And You Can See Why Their Tongues Are Slavering.

Develop A Built-in Bullshit Detector.

I'm Not Unfaithful, Darling. I've Plenty Of Faults But I'm Very Faithful. You'll Be Sick Of Me I'll Be So Faithful.

He Would Lie In The Bed And Finally, With Daylight, He Would Go To Sleep. After All, He Said To Himself, It Is Probably Only Insomnia. Many Must Have It.